WHO I'LL BE TOMORROW [ ✦ ] physical therapy

[Starlingheart]

She's been here before. On unsteady legs, shaking like its the first time she is learning to walk all over again. She certainly feels like a kit right now. And for a moment she can almost pretend that she is. It is still her first leaf-bare and she is still just Bonejaw's niece, just Pitchstar's apprentice who had overheard a group of warriors talking. They spoke of leaf-bare in hushed tones but she had overheard them, the dread in their voices as they described the starvation, the desperation, that was still yet to come, and she had decided that she was brave, that she wanted to help her clan in any way she could. She had gone to carrion place in search of prey and she had paid for her naivety, just as she was paying for it again now. Granitepelt had made a fool out of her. She had trusted him, relied on him to be her voice, to guard her heart, and what had he given her? Heartbreak and loss and mourning.

She knows too much time spent in a nest can cause legs to fail, to shrivel up and become useless, its why she had needed to do exercises the first time she had been nest bound. She guides herself through the motions now, its why her legs tremble like leaves in the wind. The strain is a lot but she needs to keep her strength up if she wants to come out of this ordeal with legs that wouldn't snap like twigs.

She is taking a break after stretching one of her legs when suddenly she hears a noise coming from her blind side. Her tattered ear flicks and her whole head snaps to look at the cat that was "sneaking" up on her, whether intentional or not, it doesn't matter. When she looks at them, her eye is wide, her nostrils flared and her breathing heavy. But when she sees it's just a clanmate and not some unknown threat lurking in the shadows, she forces herself to relax, forces her spiked fur to lay flat and her breathing to calm. "Y-you scared me" she says quietly, but there is no anger in her voice, just a soft sigh as she turns away, allowing them to reside once again in her blind spot now that she knows there is no threat. "I guess I'm-I'm not used to it yet" she admits.

// anyone is free to be the cat that approached her!

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[smogstar]

Although his moral compass rarely aligns with virtue's proper direction, one can comfortably label Smogmaw as a saint now since the limits of villainy have been redefined by Granitepelt's wrongdoings. Scum dredged up from a swamp pool bore more integrity than that kin-killing, family-shattering abuser. To inflict such merciless cruelty upon the mother of your own flesh and blood merits an unceremonious execution; one, to this day, the deputy regrets not administering.

He couldn't have, it lay beyond his jurisdiction, and had he done so, he'd have garnered a reputation as callous and reckless as his enemy.

But when he glimpses Starlingheart in her mangled condition, a canvas to the grotesque portrait her former mate desired her to be, he wishes he hadn't stifled the impulse. It is an injustice. A betrayal to what few vestiges of morality that the clan clung to. Starlingheart, temperate and selfless by nature, will find no justice for what has been wrought unto her. Only pity. Empathy. Empty promises of better tomorrows.

It is not right, and it fills him with a venomous contempt which grows so blistering in its rage, so acute in its conviction, that it demands release.

He sees her. Ventured out from her cave's refuge, the medicine cat draws on the meagre reserves of her strength and trudges forth. Her charcoal pelt is marred with grievous slashes, which lay her muscles bare, exposing raw, crimson tissue supposed to be hidden. Each stride, an exercise in endurance, a grueling test of her will to persevere. Her gait falters, and Smogmaw prepares, in anticipation, to intervene lest her wounded body can't maintain its composure.

Relief soothes his knotted throat once Starlingheart finds stable footing, though he steadily approaches nonetheless. Gnawing at him is the yearning to make amends. Their past spat seems so trivial now. A petty squabble over may-haves and might-bes, things not within his or her control. A proper apology formulates as he draws nearer—one sincere, well thought-out—before she whisks around in surprise, body language stiff with alarm.

"Shoot, I'm sorry," he musters, all while he steps rearwards with flattened ears. "Didn't mean to startle you, I'm... I'm sorry." Twice, he has apologised, yet not for any matters requiring repentance. Through the window of his expression, a pensive and contrite gaze betrays his remorseful intent. He despises seeing her this way; such a gentle spirit dealt a wicked paw by someone who is supposed to protect her, care for her, and cherish her. Someone, to his begrudging regard, Smogmaw once thought decent.

"It's good to see you out here," is the most he can offer without expressing further needless pity. "You're healing well?" ​

 

[fleabounce]

It is pity rather than empathy that spikes through Fleabounce’s heart as she watches condescension startle. Fleabounce doesn’t approach—not immediately. Whatever is said in exchange between Starlingheart and Smogmaw is lost to Fleabounce, but she assumes it to be something either private or tender; not something to be carefully catalogued by Fleabounce’s hawkish eyes.

Only during what she senses to be a lull does Fleabounce approach—(And why, she wonders, do I feel the need to approach?)—in her rabbit’s stride. There is no keeping the pity from her face as she smiles at Starlingheart—unmistakable for the condescensionless sympathy that may serve as a heart-balm, “You should show me that first stretch you did,” Fleabounce starts herself to a poor imitation of Starlingheart’s original form—in large part to give Starlingheart something to correct—and offers Starlingheart a pained smile, “You looked more graceful than I, doing this.”​

SHADOWCLAN WARRIOR ▫ CHOCOLATE TORTOISESHELL WITH AN UNUSUALLY SHORT TAIL

LOW HEARING ▫ 83 MOONS ▫ TAGS​

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[Snowlark.]

[ ༻❄༺ ] What happened to Snowpaw was something that could be considered unforgivable by many. The grotesque form she had been left in by her own mate, the person she had apparently loved basically ruined her, maimed her and had cause scars on the fur that could never heal and yet Starlingheart seemed to hold no anger for what happened to her and Snowpaw couldn't understand it. Not one bit.

Smogmaw had been the first to approach the other and then Fleabounce and now, it was Snowpaws turn to appear. A small thrush clamped in her jaws before she gently dropped it in front of the medicine cat before nudging it to the other "you need this more, cuz uh.. you know, strength and all.." she said coolly before glancing away with a slight frown on her maw. She had wanted to share it with her friends but seeing their own medicine cat in such a way made them feel she could sacrifice this one thing, and she could hopefully always find something better than what she had brought over.

But it was true, Starlingheart did need the thrush more, the way (albeit with some grace) she moved was shaky, uncertain even and Snowpaw felt like if someone wanted to, they could easily push the other over with just the tip of their paw. Their stumpy tail swished a bit as they looked away still, not holding anymore words than what she had spoke. She didn't know the medicine cat well, even if she had sometimes visit the den when her parents were lying and dying due to yellowcough, she dared not interact with the other while she did her job but.. at the moment, Starlingheart was open, free from that and focusing on healing herself, so it felt like it was the clan's turn to care for her.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── You've wasted your life , but thanks for applying ──┐‎

• 
  "speak""Thoughts"
  
• 
  Snowpaw ❄ She/Her, apprentice of Shadowclan, 5 moons.
  ⭃ Lithe long hair blue lynx sepia with high white, and yellow eyes. Stubby tail, permanent resting bitch face
  ⭃ Hailfreckle x Mudsplash
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted (ask first) / / underline and tag when attacking
  ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by Ryn ↛ @/Rynnaro on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[Starlingheart]

The repeated apology, the double meaning behind it, does not fall upon deaf ears but Starlingheart lets a long pause stretch out in the rift between them in which she takes a shaky breath. "It's okay" she finally replies, turning her head so that she can once again look at him and offer a slight, albeit sad, smile. "It-it's an adjustment but... I-I'm okay." sometimes, if she moved too fast her wounds would break open and blood would run into the soft earth at her feet. Sometimes, she woke up and would panic because only one eye opened. Her tired mind would forget until suddenly it remembered and she would just stare into that endless half darkness and think about the fact that this is how it would be for the rest of her life. "its okay" she says again, like she's trying to convince herself more than anyone else, her voice quiets and her gaze once again finds the ground.

In the silence that once again finds itself between them, there is a noise, and Starlingheart looks up and is greeted with the face of another clanmate. Pity. It is not an emotion she wants to read in the green eyes of Fleabounce but one that is there nontheless. Pity would not bring back her brother, her friends, and it certainly would not heal any of her wounds so she is grateful when Fleabounce does not mention any of it. Instead the she cat opens her mouth to ask her to demonstrate the stretch she had just done. "C-close" she offers with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "You're-you're gunna wa-want to do it more like- more like this" perhaps Fleabounce would want to start doing her daily exercises with her? That would be nice, but she is certain the warrior had other, better things to preoccupy her mornings.

"Oh. Th-thank you Snowpaw thats- thats very kind of you. Why dont you share it with me though?" While it was true that she needed to keep her strength up, she would never allow a young cat to carry that burden all by themselves.

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[lilacfur]

They are no stranger to death. To tragedy and loss right as the tide crept backward and gave a sense of safety. Lilacfur always rushed into that open space with unguarded momentum, embracing the feeling that their lives would take a turn for good this time. That all their heartache had been worth something.

Skunktail's sons had brought that feeling to her. Her nephews, kin that appeared like a miracle in the way they answered ShadowClan's need for Clanmates to make them feel safe and secured. Despite the leafbare fog she felt bathed in the warmth of sunlight as she shared prey with her Clan and slept beside them to start their days all over again- together.

The feeling refused to last, again. The mate her sister had chosen lingered like a whitecough kit, rearing his ugly soul and sinking his fangs into every throat that exposed itself in a moment of trust. Lilacfur had thought she had lost another, but her sister was stronger than the claws of evil. While she worked to recover and the Clan turned to Magpiepaw for their (so far, thankfully) minor injuries she had watched with hope that Starlingheart would return to her former strength. She cannot imagine how the midnight painted molly must feel, though. To be attacked so viciously by someone that held her heart.

"Is your leg starting to improve? Enough that we may be able to walk together soon?" Lilacfur's smile was smaller, fragile, as she padded closer. A respectful nod of acknowledgment was given to Smogmaw but otherwise she did not look at him or say a word, keeping her attention to the other mollies gathered. "Hopefully you'll get better once Pipit and his brothers get their warrior names. Then the whole family can have an outing together!"​

[ i need the clouds to cover me ]​